The Angels Sang a Whiskey Lullaby
by TehBonfire
Summary: Life after Erik, and what followed. First Fic Ever, and first Phic ever. RnR, please! Complete. ExC, mostly.


**A/N: .:April 09, 2008:. FINALLY FINISHED. Sorry it ends so abruptly, but I was on a time constraint, you see...**

Erik, Christine, Raoul, and the Opera Populaire and its related entities were never mine. They still aren't mine. Disclaimer end.

_Whiskey Lullaby_  
Song by: Braid Paisley and Alison Krauss and Union Station.

_She put him out_

_Like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette_

_She broke his heart…_

Christine clutched tighter to Raoul, encircling her arms around his sopping wet body as the pole he carried swept the couple away. All around her as she left were the heart-wrenching sobs of a man whose heart had been shattered. Christine felt a twinge of ice in her heart as she restrained herself from looking back. She would forget all of this, just as Erik had said.

_He spent his whole life tryin' to forget_

_We watched him drink his pain away_

_A little at a time…_

Raoul sat in front of the fireplace, brushing his thumb against his stubble pensively. He lowered his hand to the table beside his lush armchair and lifted his large glass of scotch. He drank it down quickly, not meaning to savor the flavor of the alcohol, but merely to induce its' effects. He stared down at the fire, a frown upon his once handsome face. It had been more than twenty years since the affair with Erik, and yet he knew he heard his wife whisper that accursed name in her sleep.

_But he never could get drunk enough_

_To get her off his mind_

_Until the night..._

The clock struck eleven and Christine appeared at the door, dressed in her simple white nightgown. "Coming to bed, darling?" she asked softly, quietly moving forward to take the empty glass from his hand as he stood up. Raoul hugged his slender bodied wife and kissed her cheek before accompanying her to their large bed. She nestled against him and fell asleep.

_He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger_

_And finally drank away her memory…_

Raoul's eyes opened to the sound of a soft whisper as the clock struck one. It was the same whispers he'd been hearing for the past fifteen years of his marriage. His beloved Christine was murmuring in her sleep, turned away from Raoul's prying eyes, incessantly murmuring that demon's name. Raoul muttered a curse and slipped out of bed, heading for the living room.

_Life is short but this time it was bigger_

_Than the strength he had to get up off his knees_

_We found him with his face down in the pillow_

_With a note that said, I'll love her till I die…_

The fire was on its way out, and he had enough light to dig through the drawer. He seized his revolver and sat upon the armchair. His eyes darted to the scotch and he took a deep gulp, feeling the burning sensation travel from his throat to his belly. And soon enough, with a bang, he felt nothing.

_And when we buried him beneath the willow_

_The angels sang a whiskey lullaby…_

Christine's mind was in a haze as she stood in her simple black dress as she stood by the closed coffin. Tears coursed down her face as the priest spoke, and she hugged Mamma Valerius close to her as Raoul and his elegant coffin were lowered into the ground.

_La la la la la la la_

_La la la la la la la…._

A cold draft made the newly widowed Christine shiver as she somberly collected Raoul's fine clothes. It had been many weeks now, and yet she still refused to remove the wedding ring from her finger. She packed them into trunks and set it in front of the front door with a sigh. As she straightened up, Christine gasped as she heard the softest whisper of her name.

_La la la la la la la_

_La la la la la la la…_

Erik was silent as his mismatched eyes fell upon Christine, his angel of music. He sang to her quietly, soothing her torn heart and renewing her with hope. All was not lost, for her angel was here to comfort and console her. In all these years, with only his music for company, a day never passed without a thought of Christine. She was in his thoughts, his words, and his very essence.

_The rumors flew_

_But nobody knew how much she blamed herself_

_For years and years…_

Christine and Erik stood in front of the old fireplace of the De Chagny house and he grasped her shoulders, the ever-present white mask still affixed to his face. "My darling Christine, I have loved you for forever and a day….Say yes to me?" Erik asked her quietly, his brown and yellow eyes looking at his fair angel. The woman looked shocked and she turned away from him, and Erik was bitterly reminded of the events of before with that accursed love triangle.

_She tried to hide the whiskey on her breath_

_She finally drank her pain away_

_A little at a time…_

Christine stood upon the stage of the Opera Populaire, a small glittering ring upon her right ring finger. It had taken much persistence from Erik for her to accept, but the fact that she had even accepted was beyond her. The lights were extinguished and Christine sighed as she remembered her glory days of the past and headed for the foyer. Against one of the walls there was a bar, and Christine gravitated towards it, moving to the back and fetching a vintage port. She deftly lifted a large wineglass, held it securely in her dainty fingers, and decided to set for home.

_But she never could get drunk enough_

_To get him off her mind_

_Until the night…_

Christine sat in a simple chair against a ceiling to floor window, watching the rain course down the glass like tears. Thunder rumbled and she caught the faintest sound of an organ, the notes deep and resonant even at this distance. Erik was most likely playing at his loudest in the cellar, the notes crashing and thundering down around him.

_She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger_

_And finally drank away his memory..._

Christine lay in her bed, a half empty bottle of wine next to her on the old wooden nightstand. In her left hand lay a lady's pistol, used for the most dire of emergencies. Lightning flashed and it illuminated her milky white face, revealing closed lids and a peaceful expression upon her face. Her hair was strewn about the pillow, and a crimson flower was blooming just beneath the thin layer of lustrous brown.

_Life is short but this time it was bigger_

_Than the strength she had to get up off her knees_

_We found her with her face down in the pillow_

_Clinging to his picture for dear life..._

Erik stared down at his beloved, and slowly drew his eyes towards the simple gold ring upon her right hand. His demonic angel eyes flooded with saltwater and pooled at the edge of the mask's eye holes. "Christine..." He ripped off the mask and cried freely, falling to his knees by the bedside, gently loosening the pistol from her stiffened fingers. He set it underneath the bed and sighed, brushing a hand across his face to flick off the tears.

_We laid her next to him beneath the willow_

_While angels sang a whiskey lullaby..._

The masked man had arranged everything for his beloved and had her set beside her true husband. He stood in front of the De Chagny tombstone and left a bouquet of red roses, and to one of them he had tied the gold ring from her right hand with ebony satin ribbon. With tears in his eyes, Erik was no longer the Phantom or the Ghost, but a man who loved a woman. As he stood there weeping, he spoke, his voice shaking slightly.

**"Why?" **


End file.
